


Balance

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beating, Bondage, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post possession, Stiles struggles to accept all that happened and he turns to Derek to help him release the pain and fear and self-hatred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

> Could be seen as pre-Derek/Stiles. There's nothing sexual here and no graphic violence, just a belt and bruises. Written for Trope Bingo prompt: hurt/comfort. I know the traditional definition doesn't allude to the hurt and comfort being from the same person, but it works here, imo. Be aware that there are no safewords mentioned but that doesn't mean there aren't any.

Stiles never completely recovers from the possession and everything the Nogitsune did in his body. The memories of those dead at his hands haunt him, the pain he caused his friends, his father, never leaves him. Some days he feels almost normal but for every day like that, he suffers a day of despair and desperation.

Refusing drugs to balance him, he seeks a different avenue.

Derek hates every second of it, but he knows if it's not him, Stiles will find what he needs from a stranger, from someone who won't understand his reasons, won't be careful of his fragile mind.

Derek knows just how much pain Stiles needs and can take, even when the young man begs for more. In the end, it always works and Stiles finds relief in pain and tears, clinging to Derek's broad shoulders, placing his burden there.

Willingly he'll take it if it means Stiles keeps his grip on his sanity. After all, Derek's used to bearing guilt and pain and suffering. Since Paige he's taken on everything for everyone.

Tonight he'll take Stiles' control from him, give him pain and release, bring him comfort and sleep.

It's nearly midnight, but the Sheriff knows where his son is--one of Derek's conditions was that Stiles tell his dad just what he'll be doing to him, and while John Stilinski naturally balked, he also surrendered to the inevitable, because sometimes better the devil you know, and his son needs this. He may never understand it, but he'll do anything for Stiles.

They all will.

Which is why Stiles is naked and shivering, standing on the balls of his feet, hands stretched above his head and affixed to a sturdy pipe with leather cuffs and chains, and Derek is taking off his belt.

"Please, Derek, please," is moaned over and over again, but Derek doesn't answer, just moves behind Stiles, noting the fading bruises, now yellow and green, that cover his back, ass and thighs. Before the night is over there'll be black and purple welts forming.

This isn't play. He hits with human strength and that's enough to hurt, to mark. Before he starts, he touches one of the pale scars on Stiles' left hip, from one of those times Derek caved into his demands, used a switch, and made him bleed.

Tonight the belt will be enough. He's learned to judge these things, know just what implement, how many lashes, Stiles needs and can take.

Tonight, fifty with the stiff leather of his new belt.

Stepping back and to the side, Derek wraps the buckle end around his fist and snaps the free end across Stiles' shoulders.

The boy bucks, shivers, and whimpers.

Before it's over he'll scream.

*****

Thirty minutes and Stiles is sobbing and shaking, his feet slipping off the floor, leaving him dangling, and Derek drops the belt to reach up and free his wrists. Before Stiles can fall, he catches him, lifts him into his arms to take him to the bed. He knows his hands, the hold are painful, but Stiles can't walk. Every bit of him is shuddering, but he's no longer crawling out of his skin--Derek's learned the differences. 

As he places him on his side on the bed, he brushes his hand over his shoulder, down his arm, and he leans down to murmur, "You did so good, Stiles," before rounding the bed and joining him.

Stiles moves immediately, pressing into Derek, gripping his arm, his hip, still sobbing, but it's cathartic now. Necessary. Cupping the nape of his neck, Derek brings his face to his chest, absorbs his tears into his skin, whispers soothing words into his hair, and closes his own eyes.

Slowly the crying stops, leaving Stiles sniffling and limp, but Derek doesn't pull away. The younger man will sleep like this for a few hours and when he awakens, he'll let Derek bathe him, rub soothing liniment into his bruises, and they'll talk, maybe even find something to smile about. This is how it works for them, the only way Derek will allow it to be. He needs something from all of this, too.

Stiles finds his balance in the pain.

Derek finds his in what comes after.

End


End file.
